


Colt 45

by 100dabbo



Series: Quincey and Seward - Headcanons and Ficlets [7]
Category: Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, Innuendo, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Neck Kissing, Outdoor Sex, POV First Person, Shooting Guns, Tree Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22762171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo
Summary: Ficlet: Quincey shows off his gun. Seward is intrigued.
Relationships: Quincey Morris/John Seward
Series: Quincey and Seward - Headcanons and Ficlets [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578952
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Colt 45

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cattycat1310](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattycat1310/gifts).



**Dr Seward’s Diary ( _evening_ )**

I woke up this morning to find Quincey in the living rooms, one hand holding a cup of tea, the other firmly braced on his gun; a Colt 45 if I remember correctly. He’d already fixed his hair into those lustrous brown curls and dressed himself in his usual waistcoat and tie, apparently having enough time to brew a teapot while he was at it. My eyes never strayed from the pistol as I walked to sit beside him, though naturally, I was attempting to conceal this, steadily reaching for a cup of my own to hide my gaze. He watched me pour it, not moving his hand away from it, and said to me with a certain nonchalance in his tone:-

“Mornin’ Jack.”

My eyes broke their stare at the gun and flicked up his own, those soft brown irises filled with adoration. I replied laconically, taking a sip from my cup:-

“Good morning, Quincey.”

“Somethin’ on your mind, Jack?” His voice was laced with coyness, knowing completely that his Bowie knife’s replacement was sure to be catching my eye. My days of prevarication in his presence were over now, and so I had to mention its obvious presence:-

“This pistol, Quincey…” I gestured with a short nod of my head, inadvertently in the direction of his crotch, “New is it?”

“’Fraid not, just an old one you’ve yet to see.” And he licked his lips with a slow swipe of his tongue before taking a sip of his tea, playfully smiling behind its rim, and before I tore my eyes away to add sugar to my cup, he slipped me a wink, the meaning of which I was yet to understand until early in the afternoon…

I was leaning over a table, as one would when trying to reach for something, when he pressed himself against me; so similar to how he had done many times before to communicate his lust without speech. Though this time, instead of the pleasant sensation of his crotch to be pushing against my curve, the first thing I noticed was the holster on his hip, and therefore the gun within it.

So, instead of allowing him to push harder to his own fulfilment, I turned myself around to look him in the eyes, sketching a coy smirk of my own. My hand gripped onto that holster, and I could see within the dark pupils of his eyes that he was disappointed it was not a further inch or two further downwards. Still, he asked me:-

“What are doin’ there, Jack?”

“I’m holding onto your gun, Quincey,” I said with my hushed tone, “I’m curious of how you use it…”

His eyes merely slid down to look at my lips, the close proximity of our bodies making it very obvious, and he responded with a volume matching my own:-

“Why down we take it out and shoot a couple rounds?” He bit his lip, clearly attempting a euphemism of sorts, whereby the gun was the phallic substitute, but since he brought it up, I must admit, I found that a rather more exciting prospect. It just seemed right that the first time I would shoot a gun would be with Quincey guiding its direction. And so, I slowly smiled and nodded, then quickly took the gun out of the leather holster to weigh it in my hand.

His eyes widened with shock, but soon returned to their usual, jovial enthusiasm, following my hand as I swayed with it in my hand; heavy to hold and cool to the touch. I thought I’d ask the fellow some base questions before we went out, my voice slow and purposefully voluptuous with its tone:-

“Is it… loaded?”

His hand traced down my arm to clasp my wrist, managing to bring himself even closer to me and reply:-

“Absolutely.” It was lascivious to be sure, but I ensured myself to be _only_ talking about the gun in my grip. I continued the allusions as my other hand drifted towards the buckle of his belt:-

“And is it… powerful?”

His expression turned truly licentious. With his head cocked to the side, eyes slowly closing, he replied with his deep tone:-

“Oh, you know it.”

“And,” I said, my fingers starting to slip between his shirt and his belt, “How many rounds can it go for?”

He shook his head gently and wet his lips with his tongue to reply:-

“As many as you’ll let me, Jack…”

So, he was the first to let his true intentions break through; I took my hand off of his waist and leant backwards, smiling,

“Sorry, Quincey, I don’t quite understand…” My eyes blinked at him in faux confusion, “Aren’t we talking about the gun?”

He narrowed his eyes and stood back up straight, taking the gun away from me and slotting it easily into the holster,

“Six,” He said simply, and he sucked his teeth, “It can shoot six rounds before reload.”

He backed away from me and took my hand, leading me out of the room and around to the back of the house. We walked quite far, considering how it was only meant to be shooting practice; the fellow could have easily chosen anywhere closer to the house, but instead, he walked us down the path, near to the grove of the estate and to a well-covered tree; a fairly old one by the look of it, though no longer than fifty years or so. He made it clear that this was to be my target.

The gun was withdrawn from the holster, held confidently by his dominant hand, and he lined it up to carefully aim at the wet bark. He clicked back the hammer without reticence and shot once, the bang ringing in my ears and an excited smile stretching my lips. The birds that were in that tree shook out from the branches and flew away in their flock, earning a contented laugh from Quincey.

“You up for a shot then, right?” He asked with a grin, to which I confirmed with a nod. He passed it back to me and let me stand in front, one of his hands snaking round my waist and the other carefully raising up to my arm, directing me to take aim at the tree. “Pull it back,” He told me, and my thumb extended to click back the hammer, “And fire.”

I pressed my body back into his embrace and shot, the satisfying click of the trigger pulling back and letting the bullet fly through the barrel, hitting the bark and embedding itself inside the wood. And before I had time to ask him how it was, he pressed his mouth onto my neck, his hot lips wet against the skin, and my arm dropped back down to my side. He moaned against my throat, extending his arm to take back the gun and keep it in that holster, gripping to my waist tightly with his other hand.

It was then, as those fingers dug into my flesh, that I knew he was going to make love to me; without hesitation, without preamble, without even going back to the house… He took away his lips and turned me around, staring into my wide eyes with a salacious eagerness, latching our lips together as he pushed me backwards, our feet stumbling over fallen twigs until I was pushed forcefully against the trunk of the tree; his hands shifting to my trousers to unfasten them.

I, on the contrary to his boldness, was hesitant and attempted to let him know, breaking away from his mouth to say:-

“Oh, Quincey, we shouldn’t!”

But it was futile; I knew what I really wanted, and that little protest was not intended to be heeded in any respect. Our lips re-joined with passion and he continued his actions, pulling down the trousers and immediately reaching down to palm my length through my undergarments. It was warm, both his smooth palm and the weather surrounding us; some few bright streams of sunlight piercing through the leaves and forcing my eyes shut as I enjoyed the pleasure, and it wasn’t long before he ventured beneath and grabbed onto me, starting to tug as I stiffened in his grip.

I couldn’t help but moan against his mouth, just soft and quiet, and he pressed himself against me harder, hitching my legs up and around his waist to fit himself between, his own erection stabbing into my thigh. I was longing for it then, the expectation of coition literally pressing against me, making me wait for it like he always would; the anticipation making the eventual release all the more brilliant.

Then he let his mouth go, giving our faces a few inches apart while his hand moved from my member and onto my entrance, pushing in his middle finger to prepare me for this substantial girth, sinking it in deep enough to rub the gland with the precise tip of his digit. I breathed in sharply, releasing another moan through my exhale, right beside his ear, panting out short, hot little breaths and clenching around his finger to savour the sensation while it began to move in and out. 

“ _Shit_ , Jack, you’re goddamn beautiful.” He whispered right beside my head, promptly moving to press against my ear, taking it between his teeth in a slow, careful move. Then, once he was satisfied that I’d been prepared enough, he took himself out and prompted me to beg for what he knew I wanted, “Tell me you wanna be fucked. Tell me how much you want it.” And he pressed the leaking tip against me; its hot, slick head just within reach, but withheld before I was to repeat my desire:-

“Fuck me, Quincey; fuck me and use me like the whore I am!”

He thrusted in and grunted, immersing himself fully within me; hitting that sweet spot, but pausing before he moved again. His panting body pressed itself against me, his face right in the crook of my neck and his strong hands holding my legs either side of his hips with a firm, tight grip. He kissed the skin; once and wet, then muttered another command:-

“Touch yourself and moan my name.”

I obeyed, reaching onto myself and stroking slowly just as he started up his drives in and out, a blissful sensation that, even if I had not been instructed to do so, allowed for his name just roll off my tongue:-

“Oh, Quincey!” I hissed, clutching to his strong shoulder to support myself as I continued to be pressed against the tree bark, “God, Quincey, you’re magnificent!”

I felt those lips smile as they pressed onto my neck once more, speeding up the bucking power of his hips, my legs tightening and tightening their hold around him, desperately keeping him closer with each of his thrusts into me, encouraging those deep, sensual forces I knew he was capable of.

“Fuck, I’ve been waiting for this all afternoon!” He grunted as he slammed in, and I wailed, knowing my vocals would encourage his completion nicely. My fist quickened its pace too, tugging the skin in such a way, so perfectly swift and careful that, when coupled with Quincey’s drives, made the pre-ejaculate slick itself down the length of it; hot, wet and sticky to make it all the more pleasurable and sensuous. I finished within mere moments.

He watched it spill out of me; hearing the quavering of my short breaths, bringing himself away from my neck and grinning with his glistening pearls to see such bliss be shown to him. He leched at the spoils as he kept himself up, nearing his own fulfilment, using me to his own satisfaction and dominating me entirely.

“Are you to finish inside me, Quincey?” I asked him as my body rocked against him, held in his steadfast grip. He kept his grin plastered across his face as he responded:-

“What would my whore like me to do? Hm?” His teeth once again embedded themselves into his soft lip, waiting for my debauched reply to be spoken. Through my gasps, I managed a hushed, secretive, whispered answer beside his ear:-

“I want you to do it…”

“What was that?” He followed with a sharp, deep thrust, “I couldn’t quite catch what you said.”

“I want you to finish inside, Quincey!” I shamelessly shouted, my head digging into the soft bark of the tree whilst my hands tensed their already intense grip on his shoulders.

“That’s what I thought…” He said laconically, working in and out with his utmost fervour until doing as requested of him; spilling himself inside with a groan of such deepness and gutturalised pleasure that I laughed through my panting breath.

He took himself out, softly, carefully, and eased my legs back down, picking up my trousers like a true gentleman and letting me step back inside of them. And when he looked back into my eyes he smiled, the golden sunshine on his face and he said:-

“Was that powerful and loaded enough for ya?”

I let my eyes drift to the leather holster for a moment and then I gazed back to him, replying:-

“Perhaps after five more rounds….”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
